Almost
by Chavva
Summary: Third OS. Several years from the present Roy and the guys are still alive and kicking. Nothing much changed, really. Ed and Roy, cat and mouse. It's just their luck that it's freezing and Hawkeye decides to take extreme measures... Rated: T?
1. He wasn't worried

**Disclaimer:**

I do not own FMA.

**He wasn't worried**

It was a stormy monday morning when Roy Mustang entered his office at exactly 0759 hours and smiled at the empty desk of Lt. Riza Hawkeye. He didn't smile at the empty desk because he loved to smile at empty desks. He also didn't smile at the empty desk without noticing that it was empty because he was an idiot or something like that. Well, actually there are a few people in the military who use to call Colonel Mustang an idiot. But they do that because of personal reasons. If you look at him objective you have to admit that he isn't an idiot. He's perverted, yes. He's sometimes impatient, yes. He has a big ego, yup. But he is not an idiot.

Like already said, he didn't smile at the empty desk because he was an idiot. He smiled at the empty desk without noticing that it was empty because unfortunately he had forgotten his umbrella that morning. Perhaps he hadn't exactly forgotten it but just decided that it was...well, unmanly to carry an umbrella. However, he didn't have one.

You may ask yourselfes now: „How the hell is an (wether on purpose or not) forgotten umbrella connected with smiling at an empty desk?!"

That's evident. If you remember it was stormy that morning. It's a funny thing with storms: There are such that are dry and there are such that are wet. Wet because water is coming from above. The clouds, you know? Have you ever wondered why both things, though apparently different (remember: one's wet and one's not) are called storms? Seems like some kinda matter of definition. Well, this morning the storm was a wet one. A very wet one. In fact, you could call it more a waterfall than a storm. So when Roy Mustang exited his nice, warm appartment that day without an umbrella it wasn't that difficult for the waterfall to hit his bare head. Unfortunatly Colonel Mustang wears his hair in a way somewhere between short and not so short. He probably thinks that he looks good this way (and in fact most of the female beings at the headquaters seem to think the same way). Of course, all of you know what happenes if a waterfall hits a head with a haircut somewhere between short and not so short: The hair decides to make it's way to the eyes. So the reason why Mustang didn't notice that the desk he was smiling at was empty was that his wet hair was hanging into his eyes.

Like already mentioned, Roy Mustang isn't an idiot. Most people (except from those who call him an idiot for personal reasons) even use to call him clever. And of course there is no way for a clever person to let his hair in his eyes while being on duty. So he put his hair away. And when he put his hair away he immediately noticed that the desk he was smiling at was empty. He stopped smiling.

Not because he was annoyed. It was more that he knew that there was no point in smiling at an empty desk. He just decided to start smiling at the desk again when it stopped being empty. That is where the problem began.

If you happen to know Lt. Riza Hawkeye, you know that she is a punctual person. There is nothing that she hates more than being unpunctual (besides from a certain Colonel not doing his paperwork). So it wasn't very surprising that Colonel Mustang, who happened to know Riza Hawkeye for a long time, was a slightly irritated when her tardiness outran five minutes. Don't forget, he was just irritated. He wasn't worried.

Roy Mustang is a growen up man (At least more than Edward Elric, he uses to reassure himself. Matter of definition, too, I guess). A growen up man always knows how to keep himself busy. So he went in is own buro, pulled out his paperwork and started to read through the files (unusual enough!). Files, as well are a funny thing. Some of them are interesting and some of them are not. Unfortunately most of them belong to category two. This category two is very tricky: sometimes you can concentrate on it though the file is boring. But sometimes you just can't, how hard you ever may try. It was some kind of bad luck that Roy happened to read those. There is just no way to concentrate on a report about an officer who missed the begin of his duty ten times in a row. At least not when every single day of failure is described over two pages. So when Roy reached page number five he decided just to sign the („bloody" to use his words) report and took another one. But right when he reached for the next file he caught eye of the still empty desk of Lt. Riza Hawkeye trough the half open door. He grunted. He scrached his head. He drumed on his desk with his fingers. He scrached his nose. He stood up. He went outside his buro and eyeballed the other room. No matter how he looked on it, she wasn't there. Not that he was worried, he told himself. He just wanted to make sure that the nap he was going to take right now wasn't interrupted by a shower of bullets.

Roy Mustang went back to his desk (not without opening the connection door as wide as he could) and sat down on his chair. This way he had a perfect view on the still empty desk. He didn't want a good view, because he wanted to see her as soon as possible, hell, no! He just wanted to be alerted the very moment she stepped into the office, so he could act busy. No way he wondered if something happened on her way to the office. After all it was storming. It was storming very hard. In fact it stormed so hard that the trees started to reach the ground. So, you see, there was no need for Colonel Roy Mustang to wonder if Riza hadn't been blowen away.

After years of sleeping with open eyes, while his face turned to a certain desk (just something he wanted to practise, he told himself) he stood up and went to the coffe-maschine. You have to now, not only files and storms are funny things. Coffe-maschines are, as well. Have you ever heard rumors of dogs and computer scenting fear? Well, I'm not sure about the dogs but computer certainly do. The problem with coffe-maschines is, they seem to do it, too. They just don't do what you want them to do. Usually, Roy got his coffe by forcing one of his subordinates to bring him one, but since he was alone that morning he had to get it himself. Fuery was on vacation, Breda was hospitalized because of a broken leg, Havac and Falman were on a mission. And Hawkeye...perhaps he should call her? After all, probably she had some documents that he had to sign urgent?

The coffe-maschine howled and spit out some brown liquor on the floor. Of course not into the cup. Roy sighed. „You have to close this little door there." A voice explained from the door. A rather young voice. Roy looked up. And sighed again. „You...what is it?" A blonde boy entered the room and dropped himself onto a chair. „Reports, Colonel Flame. It's not like I'm enjoying your company." he grunted.

„Annoying dwarf..." Roy murmured quiet. Still not quiet enough. Edward Elric hears suprisingly well everytime anybody makes a comment about people's hight. Especially about his hight. He jumped up and started to bounce up and down in front of the poor Colonel, waving his both hands. „WHO DO YOU CALL A MIDGET SO MICROSCOPIC SMALL THAT HE WOULD DROWN IN A FLYS SPIT? WHO DO YOU CALL A SHORTY SO TINY THAT HE COULD NOT BE SEEN WITH A MAGNIFIER? WHO DO YOU..." he yelled furious. Roy backed away a few steps. „Get a hold of yourself. I didn't go so far. But, of course if you insist..." He dodged a strike of Ed's metal arm and grinned. Nothing better to get in a good mood than to tease this guy. Unfortunatly his jink ended with him tripping about a big, armoured leg. „You shouldn't always tease brother like that." Alphonse Elric whispered, while helping the fallen man onto his feet again. After a few minutes which Ed spent with sulking, the atmosphere in the buro calmed down. Al looked around irritated. „Where are all of the others?" His hollow voice asked out of the armour. Mustang sighed for the third time. „Vacation. Hospitalized. Mission. Late." he answered. Ed grinned. „Who's late?"

„Lt. Hawkeye." Roy answered a bit absent. „Really?!" Ed cried out. „Well, that's strange. Still, there's..."

„**I'm not worried!"** The Colonel yelled. The Elric-Brothers stared. Ed started to giggle. Al started to giggle. Roy started to blush very very deep. „I thought you were to say 'there's no need to worry', stupid." He made an attempt of explanation, that caused the brothers to giggle even more. „I always knew it." Ed chuckled. „Yeah, I was pretty sure, too." Al nodded.

„What the fuckin' heck are you talking about!!!" Roy slammed his fist on the table. The whole situation started to annoy him beyond every limit.

„Isn't that obvious, Colonel?" Ed's annoying finger swung up and down infront of his face.

„Perhaps he didn't notice it himself?" Al asked thoughtfully.

„Sounds like the idiot he is." Ed nodded. By the way, here is an example for those people who call Colonel Roy Mustang an idiot out of personel (hight connected) reasons.

„I don't have a clue what you two brats are talking about. Probably you got the rest of your brain, IF you ever had one, beaten out of your useless heads on your last mission!" Roy yelled, now more than annoyed.

„Right, the mission. Here's the report. But I don't think the whole thing was any good." The older Elric pulled out a file. Rather crumpled by the way. Mustang shot him a glare. „That's not your decision, Fullmetal. Dismissed." The young alchemists stood up and went out of the door. Roy had just lent back in his chair enjoying the silence, when Ed's annoying head appeared in the open door. „By the way Colonel, I was going to say: 'Still there's this bothersome storm outside' when you interrupted me. Even Al had difficulties with walking in it." He said, more serious this time. „In the radio they said that there are a lot of traffic jams because of accidents. Probably Lt. Hawkeye just got caught up in one of those. But..." he told his superior officer. „However. I don't care anyways." Roy grunted. Edward's head vanished and a few moments later the Colonel heard how the office door was closed.

He opened the report the kid gave him. Though he always shouted at him he had to admit that Ed's reports were mostly from the first catergory, means they were interesting. But this time he didn't manage to concentrate on it. To help himself to focus he started to take notes, but still his thoughts continued to drift away. Yeah. Probably Hawkeye was caught in a traffic jam. Most likeley. But those traffic jams were caused by accidents. Oh, however. It wasn't like he was worried. No, not the tiniest bit. Not at all.

He turned on the news. „Todays storm caused a unusual chaos on the streets of central city. Over 20 traffic jams are reported, caused by objects on the road. Several trees which were unable to sustain the enormous wind crushed cars, standing and driving ones. Reportedly there are already six dead and 18 life-threatening injured persons. The situation is..." the neutral voice of the announcer said. To translate in common language: outside was friggin' hell. For the case Ed hadn't annoyed Roy Mustang to dead already, at the latest now, he was really pissed of. Not because eventually a little thought of Riza Hawkeye in the middle of those chaos had slipped into his mind. Because if it had slipped into it, Roy surley had been worried. But he wasn't, right? No, he was pissed because he thought about all the paperwork that he would have to do when the storm was over. Chaos always causes chaos. And the inkarnation of chaos is- of course, paperwork. Quite evident, isn't it? You see, he even didn't think about his leutenant that moment. After all he had better things to think about. Like Fullmetal's report for example. He turned his attention back to the papers and his notes. He chewed his pencil. He turned the pages. He read the words one after another. But somehow he couldn't bring sense into it. „Screw this midget. This is complete rubbish. Doesn't even manage to write a proper sentence." he growled. On he other side...Edward Elric's reports were usually not the worst. In fact they were rather good written. Perhaps Roy himself had caught some strange illness that caused a temporary dyslexia? Yeah, his reading ability was definitely affected. Because when he looked at his notes the only thing he saw was something very strange scrawled all over the page. And since he was sure he didn't write such a thing he had to be sick. Perhaps all the problems caused by a certain midget and an armoured guy had driven him crazy finally. Yeah, that had to be it. He was just...he had no clue what he was. He just knew one thing for sure: He. Wasn't. Worried.

Because he said it himself. And it didn't suit a Colonel to lie. So he wasn't worried at all.

The door slammed open. „I'm sorry, Colonel Mustang, Sir, there was a traffic jam on my way!" A familiar voice shouted and a drippy Riza Hawkeye appeared in his view. „I hope you accept my deepest apologies."

Strangely enough Roy felt some kind of relief when he saw the woman. Just a bit. What seemed to be strange, because he hadn't been worried, had he? To fell reliefed, after all, you have to be worried in beforehand, don't you? „Sir, are you alright? You seem a bit spaced out." Rizas face appeared infront of his. „Er, everything alright! There's no need to worry!" he replied and accumulated the papers on his desk. Unseen by him, a single white sheet of paper flew down to the floor.

The rest of the day was spent like always. Paperwork. Surprisingly enough, Hawkeyes appearance seemed to have cured the Colonel of his dyslexia. That, however, didn't stop him from skipping a big part of his work. Like already said, everything went like always.

So it isn't very starteling that it was Riza Hawkeye who happened to be the one who left the last. Because of this she entered the empty buro of Roy Mustang to turn of the lights. Because of this she saw the sheet on the floor. Because of this she bent down and fetched it. When she read the text that was scrawled on it, however, her eyebrows raised. It said: **I'm not worried.**

**A/N: This is my very very first FMA-fanfic. I'm not sure if it's OOC. I'm not sure about the whole thing. But if you like it (and write so in you reviews) I will make this a One Shot-Collection, I guess. If you wanna flame me without proper justification, I'll just ignore you. If you wanna critizize me constructivly I'm going to be very happy. So, now your opinion is wanted: It's in your hands wether I continue writing or not!**


	2. The Way Life is

**Now, first of all i want to thank all the reviewers on the first story, you really helped me a lot. Second i wanna apologize for making you wait so long. End of schoolterm, you know? Lots of nasty little exams. I hate that part of life.**

**Now, about this story. I hope I never promised this to be humor-only, because this story isn't humor. Don't be afraid, it isn't horror or angst. It mainly contains thoughts about life, I guess. I really hope you like it!**

_Disclaimer: I don't own any of the FMA characters or the name of the country. But do I own my ideas and i own the young artist, his son and the little girl._

**The way life is**

Once in Amestris there was a young artist. One day this young artist decided to go to a bridge of which he knew it was beautiful and to paint this bridge. When he came to the bridge he saw that there was a man standing on the other side of the balustrade and he recognized that he hadn't seen anything that expressive before. So he took out his canvas and his paints and brush and started to paint. But then it started to rain and the colors wouldn't dry and ran across the whole canvas and the young artist decided crestfallen to stop painting and go home. When he got home the canvas was already soaked and the painting was destroyed. The young artist, who knew that this painting would have been his masterpiece threw his brush away in rage and hid the painting along with his tools on the attic.

But the man on the other side of the balustrade wasn't desturbed by the rain.

He was tall, ravenhaired and obviously desperate. What else, beside desperation, could have brought a goodlooking and, judging from a Colonel's uniform, successful young man to step on the verge of an abbyss?

His closed eyes allowed shadowes from his eyelashes to spread across his pale cheeks and drops, not unlike tears, made their way to the far away ground from the tips of his hair.

His face was raised into the sky as if he accused god himself of something incerdibly cruel and his mouth was open in a silent scream. His blue coat wavered in the never ending howling of the wind like a goodbye wave from a ghost.

Indeed, the whole appearance had something apparitional and unreal in itself.

Though the young artist's eye had catched everything that was happening on the bridge, he had failed to see a bystander, who was leaning against a tree in the distance and watching the man calmly. It was a woman, blonde and in a strange, puerile way beautiful. Like the man she was wearing a blue coat. But hers displayed her as a Leutenant.

If there had been a third bystander he probably would have been surprised that the young woman didn't move at all, even though it was obvious what the man was planning and even though her face showed clearly that she knew that man.

Perhaps she was asking herself what could have caused the man's desperation. And perhaps she was thinking about a solution for the problem.

Because only fifteen minutes after the young artist left to quit, she pushed away from the tree and stepped at the man's side. She layed her hands on the balustrade and stared down into the wild river that was roaring beneath them.

„It's a nice air to breath today, Colonel, isn't it? Though a bit wet."

The man twiched and opened his eyes, still staring into the cloudy sky. „Yes it is. What are you doing here?"

The woman shrugged. „I don't know Sir. Enjoying the air and the view. What are you doing here?"

„I don't know. Probably the same thing as you. It is beautiful." His face was now turned straight forward and in the distance he could see the mountains behind a grey mist of rain.

„Yes, it is. Though it isn't less beautiful on this side of the balcony, I should say. Just less threatening. Don't you think?"

„Beautiful things are always threatening. That is why mankind tries to destroy them so desperately."

Leutenant Riza Hawkeye smiled sadly. „Really? Sir, would you mind to come on my side of the balustrade?" she asked.

The man didn't face her, just shook his head. „No, Leutenant. This time I think I will stay where I am."

Riza sighed and turned around to lean her back against the balustrade. „Then, I guess, I will have to stay where I am, too."

For a long while both, the man and the woman stood there in the rain, their faces turned into different directions, glaring in far away distance.

„Sometimes, Sir, I wonder where we will be at the end."

The sentence came up suddenly without warning and it stayed wavering in the wind above their heads. For the first time Roy turned his head around and looked down to the woman. He could not see her face, only her back, the slimm shoulders and the blonde hair that strangely enough was open that day. It was wet and raindrops sparkled in it. Because noone had touched it yet since the rain had started, the water was only a layer of fine pearls, beneath that layer the golden hair still was dry. Roy Mustang felt the urge to touch it and to free it from it's chrtystaline fragility. To make it soaked. Hair should be soaked when it was raining. His fist clutched the balustrade harder to prevent itself from moving and he digressed. Back to the mountains.

The drops began to fall even harder and Roy knew that after a while the golden hair behind his back would be soaked anyways.

„The grave." He said. It was something between a question an a statement and not really an answer to what the woman said before.

„I remember, once my mother owned a beautiful vase. It was made of chrystal glass and whenever the sun shined through the window and met it, it sparkled like a big diamond. There were always white roses in it. My mother used to put it on a cupboard so I couldn' reach it. She was afraid I could damage it." His eyes now looked even behind the mountains, somewhere they couldn't reach but still tried. „One day, after it was raining and the sunlight again made it glitter I took a chair, put it next to the cupboard, climbed up and reached for it. I just wanted to touch it once. But the chairlegs weren't even and it waggled. When I put my hand on the vase I was so exited that I lost balance and knocked it down. I still can hear the sound of the impact, when it met the floor and splittered into thousend little pieces. The sun couldn't reach it down there but it still sparkled and looked like little raindrops. And the white roses were all covered in it. One day, you should go and watch white roses after a rainfall. But you can't touch them, no matter how you want to. Because the water will pour down and the drops will be gone." He fell silent for a while. „But you will still touch them. Even if you know that you will destroy their beauty, you will touch them. Because mankind destroys what's beautiful in this world."

„What makes you think like this?"

„My Life? The things I saw in my life?"

„Compared to others it is a very short life. And after all, how can you possibly claim to know everything? You are just one of many."

„I didn't claim such a thing. But for me is only real what I see. I won't ever experience what others see. So the only thing that I can rely on to exist is what I see myself. Everything else just doesn't exist."

„That is selfish and egocentric. You can't see the stars at daylight still you know that they are there."

„That is not my point."

„That is because your point doesn't have a point, Sir" Rizas' voice had become sharp. It cut the stormy air like a knife and caused the wind to stop howling and the rain to become soundless. In the silence the man and the woman still stared into their different directions, but the womans hand moved closer to the bigger hand on the balustrade.

„Life is like a picture, Riza" the Colonel spoke up again after some time. The nature continued it's concert of destruction. „Imagine an artist paints a picture. There is a house, behind it are trees and in front of it there is a dog. The contemplator knows that there should be something inside the house and behind the trees and that the dog has to come from somewhere and that it will go to somewhere. But because the artist didn't paint it, it doesn't exist for the contemplator. To him, there exists only that painting and what's on it. Nothing more. We are contemplators."

„But the painting, if it is worth to be looked at, is hanging in a corridor. And after the contemplator had enough of that one picture, he moves forward and discoveres another one."

„What if he reaches the end of the corridor?"

„He openes a door and finds that he is in a museum with many corridors in which are many other pictures."

„What if he has seen all the pictures in the museum?"

„He moves on to another museum. To another country. And he discoveres that there are even more pictures than he had ever imagined and that they are all different."

„But what if he has seen all the museums?"

„By then he would be very old. And still, he could return to the first museum, even to the first corridor and would discover that there are new pictures in it, because while he was on his journey, new artists showed up and even the old ones have painted new pictures."

Roy didn't respond. His eyes were closed again. He didn't exactly know why he had decided to step on the other side of the balustrade that day. He had passed the bridge like every morning and suddenly he had felt the urge to climb across it, to close his eyes and to scream. But when he opened his mouth, no sound would escape his throat. So he just stood there and waited until he was able to scream. On the inside he had knowen, he wouldn't be able to do so. And then he had understood that the only way out was the way down. It still was. His feet moved forward a bit.

Still.

„What if the contemplator didn't like any of the paintings he saw?"

„Then, Sir, he either has a very bad taste and has to do something about that or the painting that he likes hasn't been painted yet."

„So he has to wait?"

„Not necessarily. Perhaps he should become an artist himself and paint the painting he likes."

„But the contemplator can't paint."

„Then he should find a teacher."

„And if he finds that teacher and discoveres that he doesn't have any talent?"

Riza turned her head towards him. She wasn't sure why she had decided to take this way to work that day. She had woken up erlier than usual in the morning and before she even knew her feet hed taken her to this point. She didn't believe that it was fate, nor did she believe that it was coincidence. Riza didn't belive in fate or coincidence. She believed in decision, action and reaction. And a concatenation of decisions, actions and reactions had brought both of them, him and her, to this point at this time. That is how simple it was. Life is always that simple. The Elric-Brothers always said that the world follows the principle of equivalent trade. But that was wrong. What they called the sacrifice was the action. What they called the product was the reaction. Some actions require more effort, more energy than others but the reaction you get is always proportional to the energy, the action you provide.

„I don't think he will discover that." she said.

„Why not?"

„Because if he is really determined to learn and to paint, he won't stop trying until the end."

„What if he fails in the end?"

„What if he succeeds?"

„What if he fails?"

„Sir, in front of my inner eye I see a gifted artist that is about to throw away the brush and slice the still empty canvas just because he failed once or twice."

„Perhaps because he tried and tried and nothing came out of it?"

Riza's hands chlinched to fists. Then suddenly, she turned around completely and climbed across the balustrade.

„What are you doing?!"

„You said we were doing the same thing. If the master throws his brush away, what will the diciple do? The master tried and tried and the disciple admired him for this determination."

„But the disciple has to continue the masters work. He has to full fill the painting!"

„Have you forgotten that the master was once a disciple, too?"

The man and the woman were standing side by side, almost touching each other. Both their eyes were closed and their faces were raised into the sky. The raindrops caromed from their skin and the howling wind caused their coats to waver.

„Perhaps the master just thinks that he shouldn't waste the canvas and leave it to his disciple?"

„The disciple prepared his own canvas a long time ago. It was the first thing the master taught him, how to make the canvas, so that he never would run out of it."

„But the master just continues failing. What if he fails in the end, as well?"

„What if he he finally succeeds?"

Roy stared down into the river and then cleared his throat.

„He won't know until he tries, isn't that right?"

Riza smiled. „Yes, Sir. That is right."

„I think the artist is a fool to throw away his brush before he really tried as long as he can."

„I think that too, Sir."

„Perhaps master and disciple should work side by side on the same painting."

„Perhaps."

It went silent again while the man and the woman listened to the howling of the wind.

„Perhaps, Sir, you should cross that balustrade together with me."

„Perhaps."

Their eyes opened and the man's hand touched the woman's.

„Yes, I really think I should do that."

The wind's howling went louder when two silhouettes crawled across the balustrade and walked down the bridge together. It was as if nature was wrathful that her victimes were about to escape.

„One last question, Riza. If I am the artist, you the disciple, Amestris the canvas, my dreams the picture and my actions the brush- what is the paint?"

The woman laughed. „Isn't that obvious, Sir? The paint is life."

Some day, the young artists son went to the attic and discovered paint, brush and a used canvas. It was wrapped into a cloth. The son enwrapped it and discovered the unfinished painting with the run colors. He saw the bridge and the man and he saw that the rain hadn't ruined the painting at all, but had turned it into a different one. He went to the museum and showed it to an expert. The expert recognized something completely new in the painting and put it in a corridor. With the time, the corridor got filled with many other paintings that were affected by nature and was called „The Corridor of Imperfection". Some day a little girl walked into this corridor and decided that she didn't like the paintings in there. She went to her mother and asked her for drawing-lessons. Her mother send her to a teacher. The teacher happened to be the young artist from back then. One day he told the little girl: „Sometimes when you think you failed, you might have in fact succeeded in a way you never imagined." The girl looked at her teacher and understood.

**That's it, guys. What do you think about it? I, personally like the last paragraph, but I am not sure about the end of the R&R thing. Somehow it doesn't fit the story.**

**This story is a lot different from any other fanfic I ever wrote, because there are my own philosophical thoughts about life in it. Of course I already wrote them down lots of times but only for myself and independant from any show. I never published them or gave them anyone to read. So, I really want to know your opinion (first one gets a cookie! Sorry, just kidding.). About story, language and philosophy...I appreciate it all. And if you didn't like it...tell me straight away. But give reasons! I cannot change anything I don't notice!**

**SO: REVIEW!**

**PS: YOU have suggestions for another story? Drama, Humor, Angst, Adventure...as long as it is short and you give ideas (i have to like them of course) I write them all!!! Write me a comment or a mail! **


	3. Just a few more steps

_Disclaimer: Yeah well, ya know, I own Fullmetall Alchemist and all it's characters...not._

_After some time I decided to update on the 'Almost' fanfic I started writing some time ago. _

_Good news: My english got better._

_Bad news: I think I lost my sense of humor. _

_However, that's for you decide. Even though this story may not be as funny as _

_the first one I think I did a good job over all._

_Plese enjoy!_

**Just a few more steps**

On a stormy week, that made it dangerous to even think of leaving the firm protection of a building followed a week of sunshine rarely seen in Amestris during march. The light streaming through the high windows of Mustangs office seemed to beg for him to lay down his pencil and take a lazy nap in his chair. Of course that was absolutely impossible, seeing as Riza was watching him carefully, knowing his preference to doze off on such sunny days.

So after one week of struggeling against his strongest character trait he was relieved when it suddenly started to snow. At least now he had a reason to stay in his office and actually do his paperwork since outside was freezing cold. Feeling relieved didn't stop him from complaining about the masses of files Hawkeye forced him to read and sign everyday. He didn't complain nearly as much as Edward Elric thogh, who was moaning constantly. And by saying constantly, it's not like he was moaning every once an hour or half. No, he was literarily moaning constantly, every hour, minute and second, only stopping to breath. The reason was that Edward Elric couldn't stand snow. Not since he already froze to death 'on some goddamn base in no-mans land with crazy people running around'- which was probably referring to Olivia Armstromg and her men.

'Fullmetal...' Calm.

'Uhhhhhhhhhhhh'

'Fullmetal...' Annoyed

'Ehhhhhhhhhhhh'

'Goddamnit, shut up for heaven's sake!' Pissed.

'Gahhhhhhhhhhh'

Explosion. Burning desk and files. Shouting from the other men (and one woman). Barking dog. Jumping Breda ('Who let the stinky cur in?!'). Shooting. Scorched Alchemist. You get the picture.

'You crazy son of a bitch are you trying to turn me into steak?' Ed jumped up and down, trying to put out the flames on his coat- it didn't work quite well, since as everyone knows fresh air just enhances fire and jumping usually provides a lot of fresh air around the jumper.

'No actually I was trying to fry me some shrimp.' Mustang remarked as he watched with interest how the young man poured coffe from the can over his burning clothes.

'Fucking Flame-Bastard, you are gonna pay for this!' with an angry shout Ed clapped his hands and the floor formed a giant wave, throwing Mustang out of his chair and to the ground.

At that point Riza Hawkeye pulled out her gun and fired a round into the air. Everyone froze. With a dangerously friendly smile she grabbed the Fullmetall Alchemist's collar with one hand, then, after dragging the struggeling young man a bit, grabbed the collar of her superior officer and pulled him up. It was amazing just how much strength the blonde woman seemed to have.

'Colonel, Edward, I think it would be best if both of you cooled of a little.' she said calmly. Both men gulped. It was never good when the Leutenant started speaking calmly while obviously being furious.

'Please go out for a while and stand in the snow. That should do the job.'

Ed started protesting from the top of his lungs but stopped immediately as Hawkeye pulled out another magazine to reload her gun.

'If you were so friendly as to get moving now? And place yourselves beneath the window of this office.'

Seeing as any kind of objection could very well have ended fatal, both obeyed without further remark.

'It's cold'

'It is'

'I can't feel my feet anymore'

'Me neither'

'You think we can go back?'

Mustang looked up to the window and gulped when he saw Hawkeye standing there with folded arms.

'I doubt it'

'You know, you're her boss, why don't you just tell her to let us up?'

Mustang crooked one eyebrow. Even imagening to issue such an order to Hawkeye triggered the image of flying bullets in his head.

'That question doesn't even deserve a reply.'

However he did feel a bit sympathy for the blonde Alchemist who was shivering in his coffe-drenched clothes. Only a tiny bit, though.

'So how's Al doing?' Pathetic attempt to distract himself from the biting cold.

'Hasn't called me in a while. I think some lines where damaged due to the storms one week ago. He's busy doing restauration work. But he is supposed to come back the day after tomorrow, as you know very well.'

Although it wasn't much, Mustang could hear a little sadness out of Ed's voice. Or maybe he was just imagining it because he was looking for it? The close relationship of the Elric-brothers seemed to have cooled of a little ever since they had suddenly appeared in headquaters 2 years ago with the giant armour that used to be Al gone. Instead before Roy had stood a boy who was a spitting image of Ed when he was 15. They never told him how they had managed to open the gate of truth and get Alphonse's body back and he had never asked but ever since that day there was a certain tension between the brothers that hadn't been there before. He wondered wether it had something to do with the fact that Ed still used automail instead of his real arm and leg or maybe because the younger Elric took the Statealchemist-Exam shortly after, wanting to help restore the still shaken Amestris after the events now known as the Homunculus-Crisis in which vast parts of the country had ended up as ruins.

Mustang realized he had definitely picked the wrong topic for smalltalk, seeing as Ed was now fiercly staring at his feet and tried to correct his mistake in the best way he knew.

'Well, Miss Rockbell seems to be doing fine.'

Ed's face lit up immediately. 'Yeah, she is really happy with her new workshop. Seems like her automail is becoming quite popular around Central.'

The Colonel was relieved to have found a topic to talk about. Especially since his nose seemed to have seperated from his body.

'I heard the two of you went out on a date yesterday.'

Big mistake. Ed frowned deeper than when talking about milk.

'Who told you such a thing?'

'Havoc. You didn't?'

'I'm gonna kill that smoking bastard. He can't just go around telling people personal stuff!'

'So you went after all.'

Ed went red as a tomato. 'It wasn't a date. We just went to the movies and then had some dinner together.'

Actually Mustang thought that was pretty much one of the definitions of 'date'- or he had been doing something wrong for years.

'So how did your non-date go?'

Ed frowned even deeper if that was possible.

'I don't think she was feeling well that evening.'

'Why do you think that?'

'Well, because she was all red in the face and kept knocking things over.' Ed said while pulling out a something that Roy suspected might have been a choclate bar long time ago. The blonde shouted angry when it slipped his hands and fell to the ground. Roy took the opportunity to pick it up as fast as possible and incinerate it. Even though he was pretty sure Hawkeye wouldn't approve of him warming himself with his flames he took the risk of her misunderstanding the situation. However, no shots resounded- he was safe.

'Bastard, that was mine!'

'It was moving.'

'It was not!'

'Well, it looked like it would start to any second. Honestly, watch your food more carefully.'

'I just bought that some time ago!'

'Specify some time?'

'Well, maybe one week ago...no wait, I ate that one already...so maybe it's from...no, Hayate stole that...' As Ed started telling abourt the various choclate bars he had bought and their mostly tragic end Mustang was swaying between horror and disbelieve '...I guess it's from the time I was in that desert-town with the crazy head-priest.'

Roy decided not to mention that that had been about 5 or 6 years ago. He was just glad he burned the damn thing.

'So because Winry was knocking things over you decided that she was feeling sick?' He asked, returning to the original topic.

'Yeah. And red in the face, listen to what people say dammit. And she didn't eat much and during the movie she was always looking at me as if she wanted to go and moving around in her seat.'

Mustang had a slight suspicion what the moving around in the seat was all about, as well as the looking, red face and the knocking things over- and it was most definitely not a sickness. He camouflaged a chuckle as a cough.

'Was she moving like back and forth or mire like from one side to the other?'

'Side to side. Why?'

Mustang grinned. 'I don't think she wasn't feeling well'

'I don't get it...'

The Colonel sighed. Ed was a prodigy. There was no doubt about it. But at the same time he had never seen anyone as dense as him in some areas. One specific area, to be precise.

'Look...' He stepped a bit closer and tilted his head a little to the side.

'Notice anything?'

Ed blinked...'Yeah, you look stupid that way.'

'Think, Shrimp, anything else?'

'You use the same aftershave as Havoc?'

'No actually _he_ uses the same as _I_...wait, how do you know what kind of aftershave Havoc uses?'

'Because we hang out together and I have a good sense of smell?'

'You're smelling Havoc?'

'No, I'm not smelling him, I just smell the aftershave. Gosh, isn't that the purpose of the whole thing?'

'Alright, anyway, it's not the aftershave.' Roy sighed. 'You've got one more try, then I'm totally giving up on you.'

Ed thought about it really hard. What was it aside from Mustang looking really weird that way and the increased smell of his aftershave? Increased smell...Increased...come to think of it, he could hear the Colonel breathing...and their shoulders almost touched...

'Well...our heads are closer this way?' he asked uncertain.

'Exactly.' Mustang massaged his neck, relieved to get out of the uncomfortable position. Ed really was short, although he had grown quite a bit since they first met.

'Ok... but what has that to do with Winry being sick?'

'Absolutely nothing.'

'A-re?'

Mustang sighed again. 'Look Fullmetal, I brought you this far, go figure it out on your own. Just think about how exactly Winry moved and also about why people get red in the face...'

He looked up the window again. Hawkeye was gone. No wonder. His body was telling him that they had stood outside for a little too long.

'Let's go inside, it is damn cold. I think we deserved some mercy.'

He started walking towards the entrance but stopped when Edward didn't come after him. Turning around he asked: 'Did your feet freeze to the ground?'

And burst out into laughter when he saw that the shoes that had been soaked in coffe half an hour ago actually had frozen to the ground.

'That's not funny, you bloody bastard! Do something!'

'Why don't you do something yourself?'

'Because with this cold the automail doesn't work all that well and I can't use alchemy right now. Not after frozen coffe got into the joints.' Ed mumbled somewhat embarassed. Actually he could use alchemy but it would damage the automail Winry had fixed just yesterday before going out.

Roy laughed a little more but bowed down and freed the young man from the ice surrounding his boots.

When they went inside, he briefly wondered just when the two of them had become able to talk this peacefully to each other- back in the old days he had always sensed a wave of distrust and contempt coming from Edward but somewhere along the way it had vanished.

When they entered the office everyone was staring at them with wide open mouthes. It was somewhat creepy, as Mustang thought, especially when he felt their piercing glances in his back all the way to his desk. He sat down. Noone spoke. It was definitively creepy. Mustang shifted a little in his chair. The eyes followed him. He cleared his throat. They leaned forward. Mustang knew this game. It was called 'snake watching mouse'. Goal was for the snake to stare down the mouse until it broke. He was really good at it. When he got to be the snake, that is.

Five minutes later he learned that he was a really crappy mouse. Sweat started pouring down his face.

Finally he spoke: 'Ok, what is this about?'

Hawkeye cleared her throat. 'Nothing much, Sir. It's just that Fullmetall and you seemed to be almost friendly down there...'

Yeah, well. Maybe she was right. Maybe after all the time they spent together it would take just a few steps more to become friends for them.

'You Shit-Flame-User, this stack of files is not mine! Are you trying to have me do your work?! You will pay for this...!' And Edward clapped.

Yeah, well. Maybe it would take just a few more steps for them- until they killed each other.

_What did you think? Is it ingenius? Is it lame? Or maybe something in between? Please review, I even take flames, although you should reconsider going public with them- you'll never be as good as Mustang, muhaha. _


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